A Serious Conversation
by yerrr87
Summary: It's been a month since Fred was kicked off of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, and he hasn't spoken to Angelina since.


AN: HP not mine.

Halfway through dinner in the Great Hall, Fred Weasley, who was engrossed in conversation with Lee Jordan regarding the potential detriments of courting both sixth _and_ seventh year Hufflepuff admirers, noticed out of the corner of his eye Angelina Johnson swooping in and snatching a roast beef sandwich out from under the outstretched hand of a second year before turning on her heel and walking out. This was an odd observation, since he wasn't much inclined to notice anything about Angelina these days, what with the stony silences and blank stares that had greeted him every time he made an effort to speak with her in the past month. Since Fred's untimely sacking from the Gryffindor Quidditch team, his former Captain hadn't been too keen on spending quality time with him at meals, not to mention in any of the unused classrooms they had frequented in the past.

He turned his attention back to Lee, who was now mocking up a crude pros-and-cons list to further evaluate his dilemma, and said, "As irresistible as I am, I'm not sure I'm the best person to be hashing this out with, mate. Not doing so well myself lately."

Lee rolled his eyes and said flatly, "Just go apologize to her, I'm sure your ego will survive."

"I've nothing to apologize for," Fred protested. "I didn't even get to land a punch on those twats, although I wish I would have."

"Right," Lee said patiently, in the tone of a parent resigned to deal with their particularly rambunctious child. "We know you technically didn't do anything. But you've got to see it Ange's way — she's been gearing up to be Gryffindor Captain since second year. And it's obvious that tact's not your strong suit, I'll bet you haven't tried to have a serious conversation with her once."

Fred huffed, swinging his legs over the bench to stand. "For someone who's attempting to work out how to date two girls at once, you've become quite the woman-whisperer."

"I've only known Angelina since I was eight years old," Lee said, turning back to his list. "I could care less about these two."

"I'll make sure that gets back to them, Romeo," Fred shot over his shoulder. Walking towards the entrance hall, he felt his brother fall into step next to him.

"Where we off to?" George asked nonchalantly.

"I've got some business to take care of," Fred said cagily.

"_Business_, or..?"

"Unfortunately the latter. I'll find you later and we can carry on with the Snackboxes." Fred didn't miss George furrowing his eyebrows, and added hastily, "It won't take long, just a quick one."

"Nothing's quick with you and Johnson," George said wearily. "Just hurry up and apologize."

Fred groaned. "Not you, too. Going soft on me, Georgie!"

His twin held up his hands in protest. "It's what we all want! You two are wrecking everyone's mood, it's impossible to be in the same room with you."

"Glad to know it's what 'we all' want. I'll see you in a few."

"Think of the greater good!" George called after him, leaving Fred to continue out of the Great Hall.

"Whatever," he muttered to himself. He and Angelina had had tiffs before, but in the past her silent treatments only lasted as long as it took for him to make her crack a smile. Even after this summer, when he'd barely been able to write and visiting had been out of the question, her fury had been unmatched, and she'd still let him sidle up next to her late at night in the common room the first night they'd been back at Hogwarts.

It wasn't so much the apologizing that bothered him, Fred thought as he made his way through the front doors and towards the Quidditch pitch, as it was that he wasn't used to making so much effort when it came to women. Other girls at school had always been a bit struck when Fred approached them, and his reputation preceded itself enough that he always had some leeway when it came down to seriously talking about his feelings. Angelina, on the other hand, he'd been friends with since they were eleven, and their relationship had evolved over time to become — well, not quite boyfriend and girlfriend, but something like that, though they'd never said it out loud. Angelina wasn't the type to get wrapped up in all that, which was one of the reasons Fred liked her so much. But it seemed that now the casualness of their arrangement had caught up to them — to him, really.

He stopped short at the door to the changing rooms, realizing suddenly that he had nothing that remotely resembled a plan. He remembered what Lee had said about a serious conversation and resigned himself to whatever awaited him inside.

Just walking through the locker room renewed Fred's anger over his lifetime ban from Quidditch. As he passed, he thumped his fist on the locker that had, until recently, had his name on it. No one had as much right as he, George, and Harry to be angry at their displacement. Even McGonagall had been at a loss for words when Umbridge's decision had come down, and her passion for the Gryffindor team had served as a blueprint for Oliver Wood's.

The first thing he heard as he approached the door to the captain's office was a rhythmic, muffled thudding sound. Listening closely, he could make the low tones of Angelina's voice saying "—nothing like Fred and George, of course, they'll need loads more practice before they could dream of getting that good."

Pleased, he smiled to himself. Even if they weren't on speaking terms, Angelina was still able to talk him up to — who was she talking to? He rapped on the door with his knuckle and squared his shoulders.

The thudding stopped, and so did Angelina's voice. There was a pause, and then, "Yeah, come in?"

Fred pushed the door open. Angelina was perched on the desk sideways, Quaffle in hand. The roast beef sandwich from earlier was sitting half eaten next to a pile of playbooks and a single dead Bludger that had been repurposed as a paperweight.

"Alright, Ange?" Fred asked, stationing himself just inside the door. He leaned against the wall, ignoring the heat that was already making its way up the back of his neck.

"Alright," she replied automatically, eyes wide. She shook her head slightly and recomposed her expression into one of smooth indifference. "What do you want? And since when do you knock?"

"I've been known to knock," Fred said. He looked around the room; there was no else in the small office. "Having a chat with ourselves?"

Angelina rolled her eyes and gestured to the desk. "I'm writing to Wood about the mess I've made of his championship team," she said. "_Finite_." The quill that had been standing at attention dropped on its side.

"Should've known. Tell him we say hello, yeah?"

"Tell him yourself," she said, sliding off the desk and onto her feet. "What are you doing here?"

Fred steeled himself. "Just wanted to talk. Been a while, you know."

"Yeah, I do," Angelina said, spinning the Quaffle between her fingers. "And?"

"And apparently we're wrecking everyone's moods. And it's annoying that you don't eat with us anymore. Although I must say, the ambiance in the changing rooms is on par with the Great Hall."

Angelina's mouth twitched. "It's easier if I'm here, I'm usually working on the team anyway. Who said we were wrecking the mood?"

"George, although it sounds like it came from Alicia."

"Doesn't it," she said drolly. "She's concerned."

"And you aren't?"

Angelina fixed him with a piercing look. "You are?"

This was going to take longer than he'd anticipated. "I mean," he said, "I wouldn't mind being back in your good graces." He pushed himself away from the wall. "I suppose...well, I'm here to apologize."

Angelina's eyebrows shot skywards. "And who told you to do that?"

"Can't I have one original idea? I'm very smart, if you hadn't noticed. Good at Arithmancy, you know."

"Go on, then." She crossed her arms and waited as he gathered his thoughts.

"Even though none of this is technically our fault," he began, "and anyone would've done the same if it had been them, it's not great that whatever that cow Umbridge says is law, and it's fucked everything up."

"'Not great'," she repeated stiltedly. "Yeah, it's definitely _not great_ to have what should have been a piece of cake turn into an unmitigated disaster."

"Oh, come off it, you know what I mean." Fred said hurriedly. He could always tell when Angelina was gearing up to a full blown argument, which would derail his plans to get back to Gryffindor Tower and only prove George right. "It's absolute torture to watch you out there and not be able to, to chip in—"

"Is it?" she said coldly. "Is it absolute torture for you, Fred? Are you seriously telling me this is your attempt at an apology?" She let out a dry laugh.

"Well, you're not making it very easy, are you, Angelina?" he spat. "Every time I've even looked at you in the past month you head the other direction. Forgive me if I'm not exactly forthcoming."

"You don't get it, do you?" Angelina asked witheringly. "I could give a damn that you got in some stupid fight with Malfoy and them. You're right, anyone would've done the same thing."

Fred couldn't remember the last time he'd heard Angelina Johnson say the words "you're right" in any context, much less to him in the course of an argument. Brushing that aside, he forged ahead. "Well, what do you want me to say? Sorry that I ruined Captain Johnson's glory year? Her 'piece of cake' with a championship team?"

She let out a harsh breath. "It's not _fun_ anymore." She turned her attention to the Quaffle, avoiding his eyes. "It's fucking difficult to be out there without you. Yeah, winning would be nice," — Fred worked to hide a smirk at this — "but it was supposed to be our last hurrah. _All_ of us," she said quietly, finally looking at him. "It's easier to concentrate on getting through it if, you know, I'm not hanging around you."

Fred frowned. "So I'm a reminder."

"You're a _distraction_. And I can't afford to be distracted right now. We're not all Weasley twins."

"The world can only handle so many of us," he said cheekily. Angelina rolled her eyes.

"So you hide out in the locker rooms instead," he said. "You'd rather write to Wood than talk to us?" His voice cracked ever so slightly, and Angelina's lips quirked again.

"Always jealous of Wood," she said, tossing the Quaffle into the air. It landed with a hollow thud squarely in the palm of her hand. "You haven't seemed too keen on me either, lately."

"I'm always keen on you, Angelina," Fred said before he could stop himself, and flushed. He ran a hand through his hair and cleared his throat. "I mean...you're a tough one, Captain."

She fully grinned then, showing her even, white teeth. She flicked the Quaffle at him, and despite catching it easily, Fred was still rocked back on his heels. "So that's the apology, then," she said, coming around to the front of the desk.

"Unless there's something else you'd like me to say," Fred said, tossing the ball idly over his shoulder. He heard it bounce through the open door and roll into the adjoining locker room. "I'll get that later," he mumbled as he met Angelina in the middle of the office and wrapped his arms around her shoulders.

"Can't say I mind all this 'captain' business," she said into his shoulder. She leaned away to look at him, and said dryly, "And you can go ahead and ask me to eat dinner with you, now."

Fred laughed, pulling her back towards him. "Dinner's over, Cap. How about tomorrow night?"

"Alright, then," Angelina murmured, raising her face to meet his. "We'll see if we can lift the mood."


End file.
